“I’m not sure if we can take on any more new clientele,” Gina said as she turned onto Interstate 75. “But, tell Beyoncé’s people to send over the numbers and a timetable and I will get back to them by Monday.”
“Okay, no problem, Ms. Payne,” responded Monica, her personal assistant. “Anything else?” Gina asked.
“No, Mam that’ll be all,” Monica began .“Enjoy your lunch and weekend. I will see you bright and early Monday morning.”
“You’ll see me at 2,” Gina corrected.
“Oh, that’s right!” Monica quipped. “It is the last Friday of the month. Where to this weekend?”
“Girl, Jamaica!” Gina exclaimed.
“None of my friends believe me when I tell them my boss vacations in the Caribbean with her husband once a month,” Monica confessed. Gina laughed. “Girl, to be honest with you,” Gina began as she put on her signal to merge into the next lane, “I can’t believe it sometimes myself. But just know, this was 25 years in the making. I earnedthese trips, you hear me?”
“Yes, mam, you did,” Monica affirmed. “Enjoy and I will talk to you on Monday!”
“Thank you, and enjoy your weekend,” Gina returned. “ Oh, before I forget, I left some tickets to the Babyface and Toni Braxton show at the front desk for you. I completely forgot me and Martin were going out of town this weekend. They’re yours if you want them.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Payne!” Monica exclaimed. “No, problem, Hun,” Gina responded. “I will see you Monday.” With that, Gina hit the ‘Call’ button on the steering wheel and Monica’s voice was no longer blaring over the car’s speaker systems.
Gina started to regret leaving the office later than usual to meet her business partner and childhood friend for the weekly lunch date at her favorite soul food spot on the West End as she creeped closer and closer to the deadlocked traffic. “Dammit!” She exclaimed as her brand new Porsche Cayenne was forced to come to a screeching halt. She loved Atlanta and everything that came with it — but she loathed the traffic. Even after spending nearly 10 years in Los Angeles, Gina’s uneasiness and resentment of stand still traffic still made the hair on the back of her neck stand. She turned on the radio and scrolled through her text messages.
Martin 12:50PM: Hey, baby. Pilot is a go. We leave at 6:00PM. Will send car for you at 5. “
Gina smiled. For 25 years, Martin always promised her that one day, some day, they would be in a position to vacation in the Caribbean on the weekends. She thought back over just how she was able to drive her dream car from her dream job, and was on her way to her monthly dream vacation with her dream man. 9 years ago, things were very different for the both of them. Martin was still reeling from the cancellation of his nationally syndicated talk show and Gina was in her 7th year as Vice-President of Marketing for a company she had been with for over 20 years — a company that passed her over for the position of CEO on more than one occasion. Fed up, Gina walked into the office one faithful day in September, packed all of her things, made a cup of coffee, and quit.
Nearly a decade after facing financial ruin and both she and Martin struggling with unemployment, he returned to his roots on the radio in Atlanta and had the number one rated morning show in the nation, and she was the President and Co-owner of Nzinga, Inc., A Public Relations and Crisis Management Firm she co-founded with a good friend from back home. In less than 10 years, the Payne’s had gone from having it all, to having nothing at all, to having it all — and then some.
Gina beamed from ear to ear as she scrolled through her pictures, endless selfies with her, Martin, and their twin boys Kingston and Khalil — both now in their final year of high school. Her smile quickly erased when she came across a picture of her mom and dad. Tears welled up in her eyes as her mind wandered on the memories her father who died right before their move to Atlanta and her mother who passed on her birthday just last year. Her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was Pam.
“Hey, Girl.”
“Wassup, G? You busy?” Pam asked.
“Naw, girl. Sitting in this damn Atlanta traffic,” Gina answered. “I can talk. What’s up?”
“Can we re-schedule our New York meeting for the end of next month? ” Pam asked, “I am going to be in New Orleans on the weekend that we scheduled getting ready for Essence and just won’t have the time.” Gina flipped through her calendar on her phone.
“When are you going to be in New Orleans?” Gina asked.
“The 24th thru the 30th,” Pam answered.
“I can just meet you in New Orleans,” Gina offered. “It’s a two hour flight from Atlanta. We can do a late breakfast, I’ll be back by dinnertime.”
“We can do that,” Pam answered. What day works best for you?”
“The 25th from 10 til about 3,” Gina answered.
“That’s perfect, Pam returned. “And we’re still on for Antigua, right?”
“Girl, yes!” Gina exclaimed. “I’m buying my swimsuit for Antigua in Jamaica this weekend!”
“Little Shorty Doo Wop still flying you out to the islands every month, huh, G? Tell me something girl; how do the both you fit in that little ass drone?”
“Pam….” Gina said sarcastically.
“I’m just saying though,” Pam continued. “I know he can fit, but you’re the size of an actual adult.”
“I know you didn’t call to waste your free minutes insulting my man, girl,” Gina quipped.
“I didn’t, but you know me,” Pam responded.
“Yes, I do, for too damn long,” Gina joked.
“Can you believe this, tho, G? Like, we are really out here doing it. You doing your thing with PR. Too Short runnin’ radio, I’m running a damn record label. Tommy and Cole got that real estate and janitorial business swingin in Detroit. Both of my god-babies on their way to college. Your god baby too grown for no damn good. Can you believe it, girl?”
“Girl, yes!” Gina exclaimed. “I sure can believe it. I knew the company I was keeping 20 years ago. Even Cole slow ass always had potential to make something happen. I am not one bit surprised that the crew, is fly, rich, and running shit. Not. At. All.”
“Fly, Rich, and running shit!” Pam repeated. “Girl you need to put that on a shirt!”
“I know, right?” Gina joked. “But let me go. Traffic picking up again. Have your assistant call my assistant to get those dates in order. I’ll see you in two weeks, boo.”
“Okay, Hun,” Pam said. “See you then. Love ya.”
“Love you, too, girl.”
She hung up the phone and flipped through her calendar for the rest of the month. Between two graduating seniors, a booming business, and a husband that had been bitten by the traveling bug, every day for the rest of the month either belong to someone else or was co-opted by someone else. Still, Gina didn’t mind. It was a blessing she’d pray for in college: marrying an ambitious man who could give her the world — but only if she requested it because she’d be in a position to provide for herself. While most people would have been overwhelmed at the sheer amount of work she was facing, Gina didn’t mind at all. Her clientele had been rapidly expanding and already included The nation’s largest Black owned publishing company, Inc., Pam’s company Keep It Real Records, several high profile non-profits, and Sheneneh’s Sho Nuff Salon -a chain of beauty salons and spas from Martin’s former neighbor turned hair care mogul.
Gina pulled off the exit unto Peachtree. She already knew what she was going to order — it hadn’t changed in 9 years. Gina pulled into the parking lot and backed into her favorite parking spot under the shade of several trees. As much as she loved Atlanta, she couldn’t stand the southern heat. Gina’s phone rang just as she pulled in. It was Monica.
“Hey, Miss Lady. Is this an emergency?” Gina asked as she touched up her lipstick in the mirror.
“Yes, mam it is,” Monica answered. “You told me to call you if that the client from Virginia called back.
“The university?” Gina asked.
“Yes, mam?”
“And they were in need of crisis management, correct?” Gina asked as she removed her shades.
“That, and branding,” Monica answered.
“Okay. Inform them that we will have an answer for them by Monday,” Gina added. “Let them know I am meeting with my business partner today and we’ll make a decision over lunch.”
“I sure will. Enjoy your lunch.” Monica said.
“Thank you, take care, Hun,” Gina said as she hung up the phone. She put her phone in her over-sized Pink Hermes Birken bag, a gift from her sorority sisters after the passing of her mother, and entered the restaurant. She scanned the room. There was no sign of her business partner. Gina walked back outside. Her car was there — in its usual spot. She walked back in and scanned the room again.
“Excuse me, mam,” Gina’s search was interrupted by the hostess. “Is there someone you’re looking for?”
“You must be new,” Gina asked as she continued to search the room.
“Yes, mam today is my first day!” the woman exclaimed. “May I have the name of the party you’re searching for?”
“Barker,” Gina answered — still searching the room.
“Is that a last name?” The hostess asked. “Because, I’m not seeing it.”
Gina smiled. “That girl is such a nut. She probably gave you her maiden name.
“What would that be?” the hostess asked.
“Shaw. “ Gina answered. “Maxine Shaw.”
